


Cleaning Up is Hard to Do

by arysteia



Series: Lex and Clark: the New Adventures of Superman [1]
Category: Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysteia/pseuds/arysteia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evil-doers have seized control of the <i>Daily Planet</i> building.  Can Clark save the day, rescue Lois, Perry and Jimmy, <i>and</i> reconcile with Lex, all without revealing his secret identity?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleaning Up is Hard to Do

**Author's Note:**

> Back in the early 90s, _Lois & Clark: the New Adventures of Superman_ was my favourite thing on tv. When Lois nearly married eeevil!Lex, and poor woobie Clark went off and cried in the Antarctic so as not to hurt anyone with the ensuing avalanches, I bawled my eyes out.
> 
> In years since, people have tried to convince me that it's clichéd, badly written, and silly, and all it has going for it is the stunning hotness of the leads. Ummmmm... Isn't that _Smallville_??? Pot, kettle. So when Rose_Emily issued the _Lois and Clark go to Smallville_ challenge, I knew it was fate.
> 
> This story is a reworking of the _Lois & Clark_ episode "Flyhard". Lois, Perry and Jimmy are _L &C_ canon, Lex and Clark are _Smallville_. So I guess mine is technically _Lex and Clark go to Metropolis_. :-D

Deep in concentration, Clark barely heard the muffled _ping_ of the elevator, but there was no mistaking the bellowed “Kent!” which followed, shattering the silence of the empty bullpen. The Editor-in-Chief of the _Daily Planet_ strode across the floor to loom over his flustered reporter. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Clark flinched and ducked for cover, leaning over to rummage in his bottom drawer, the one that hadn’t been emptied since he started at the _Planet_ four years ago and no longer shut properly. “Here meaning?”

“Here meaning here!” Perry shouted, flinging out an arm to encompass the editorial floor, barely missing the precarious tower of folders on Lois’ desk, kitty-corner to Clark’s own. “In this building. At that desk. With your computer turned on.”

 _Dammit!_ Clark sat up, shoving the drawer one last time. It caught on whatever recalcitrant object was wedged under the lip, and remained open. “Working? On a story?”

“Did I not tell you to take the weekend off? Did I not stress the importance of seizing these opportunities when they come? Do you not have a home to go to? Do you not have friends?”

“Of course I do, I just... This is important. I have to get it done before I leave.”

Perry leaned over the desk suspiciously. “Lois told me the Sanderson piece _was_ done.”

“It is!” Clark yelped, closing his open computer window. The spectre of Lois’ wrath left Perry’s in the dust. Any implication she hadn’t finished her share of an assignment would be met with retribution swift and merciless. 

“Then what the hell are you doing sitting in the dark in an empty building on a Saturday night?” Perry shouted, as though sensing that his powers to terrorise were being impugned. And then he softened just as suddenly. “Great shades of Elvis, son. You work too hard. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate it, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you smile. You need to get a girlfriend.” There was a pause. “Or a boyfriend if you’d rather.”

“Chief!”

“Now I’m not jumping to any conclusions, and I’m certainly not judging.” Perry shook his head knowingly. “What a man does on his own time is his affair. But let me tell you something as someone who’s been married to this place for thirty years. It’s mighty stimulating during the day, nothing so exciting, but it doesn’t do much to keep you warm in bed at night.”

“How is Alice?” Clark asked defiantly.

“She’s seeing an accountant, who apparently spends more time at home that I ever did,” Perry replied tersely. “So benefit from my experience.” He turned back to the elevator, where a large pile of boxes with legs was staggering out. “Olsen! Quit fooling around and hurry up. It’ll be morning before we’re done.”

Jimmy deposited his burden and bounded over to Clark’s desk. “CK! You get roped in too?”

“Roped into what, Jimmy?”

“Cleaning out the chief’s office. _Great_ way to spend Saturday night.”

“Can it, Olsen,” Perry barked. “Get in there and get started.” He turned back to Clark with a grin. “Interns. Nothing like ’em for restoring order to chaos. I can’t find a damn thing in there; the whole room looks like that drawer of yours. Inability to throw things out, Kent, it’s the first step down a slippery slope.”

Clark kicked the offending drawer. It closed with the sound of splintering glass. He sighed. “I’ll leave you to it then, chief. And thanks.”

“No problem, son. You know I wouldn’t bother if I didn’t care.”

Clark sighed. He did know.

“Oh, and Kent?”

“Yeah chief?”

“Do you get a lot of penetrating insights into the mind of the corporate mogul from _baldbillionaire.com_?”

Clark glanced in shocked betrayal at the IE screen which had inexplicably failed to minimise on command. Perry laughed and headed into his own office, where Jimmy could already be heard bemoaning his lot.

Cursing Bill Gates for a minion of Satan, Clark pulled the drawer back open. He could probably still catch a late movie before heading home to an empty apartment and leftover pizza, but he might as well clean it out before he left.

Pulling out museum catalogues, ticket stubs, and dried up pens, Clark wondered why he’d put the job off for so long. Copy of the _Planet_ from his first week on staff, pages yellowed and curling, spare keys, business cards, scrawled notes on corporate letterhead... all found their way into the trashcan beside his desk. Pressure easing, the drawer opened all the way and his fingers curled round the object that had been causing all the trouble. The frame was warped, one side badly dented by the impact when he’d forced the drawer. The shattered glass did very little, however, to conceal the sheer joy radiating off the faces that looked out at him.

His own made him want to laugh. Had he ever been that young? And why, oh why, had no one ever told him he needed a haircut? The other made him want to cry. Mouth open in genuine amazement, eyes sparkling with some long forgotten glee, the young man bore no resemblance whatsoever to the five hundred and ninety three images Clark had painstakingly downloaded from the aforementioned _baldbillionaire.com_ in the last week. He stroked a finger sadly across one pale cheek, impervious skin barely feeling the drag of splinters. 

The triumphant return of Lex Luthor to the city of his birth after three years abroad had sparked a media frenzy of Olympian proportions. Nirvana, Xanadu and El Dorado, rolled into one, beckoned the reporter who secured an interview. Thus far none had succeeded. Lex managed to put more scorn into a single, snapped “No comment” than any other celebrity Clark had encountered. He’d also walked straight past Clark, twice, in the park which separated the _Daily Planet_ building from the old Luthorcorp, now Lexcorp, Plaza, crushing whatever hope still lingered that Clark might one day get to _explain_. Clark sighed, and tossed the picture into the trash with the rest.

* * *

Tripping over a life size cut-out of the King in full Vegas glory that Jimmy had somehow sneaked onto the out pile when Perry’s back was turned – _hypocrite!_ a little voice hissed – Clark stumbled toward the bathroom. When had it gotten so dark? Probably sometime around picture four hundred and eighty seven, if he was honest. Willy the security guard, a sprightly octogenarian, had offered to turn the main lights back on if he had a whole heap of work to do on the intraweb thingy, but Clark, without looking up from a colour comparison between purple, lavender, aubergine and lilac shirts, had insisted he’d only be a moment. Said montage had been picture two hundred and sixty two.

Throwing cold water on his face and staring at himself in the mirror, Clark decided Perry was right. Inability to let go of the past was a killer. Admittedly, failed relationships were tougher to jettison than the sentimental detritus used to recall them, but a start was a start. Now it was time to follow through. He was heading back out there, and he was going to delete all downloaded images, .wav files, and that one grainy .ram file – gosh, the woman who ran that site was dedicated - he refused to call her obsessed, she was just interested, like he was – and then he was going home. No, he was going out. To a bar. For a drink. Maybe he’d meet someone, maybe he wouldn’t. But it was time.

Christ, it was time. His inner monologue was now speaking in Lex’s voice, and that was a _bad_ sign. That voice he hadn’t heard in so long, except through the tinny speakers of his computer, and that one highly personal “No comment”. 

“It was time,” the voice repeated. “That’s all.”

Clark’s heart lurched. _Surely not_.

The unmistakable sound of Lois’ laughter echoed through the quiet as he opened the door. “Well, that’s as good a reason as any, I guess,” she replied.

Blessing the enveloping dark, Clark took a moment to steady himself. Lex was sitting on his desk – _his desk_ – back to the ridiculous – _merciful, blessed_ – psychedelic screensaver, watching Lois rummage in her own drawer of doom. She found what she was looking for and looked up. “I’ll just be a minute, Lex, I’ll... Oh, hey Clark. I didn’t realise you were still here.”

Lex turned with the grace Clark had always envied, and looked him quickly up and down, no doubt cataloguing the hideous crimes of his appearance. Mustard on sleeve, Xerox toner on pants leg, his mind helpfully supplied. Oh, and the nylon tie Lex had begged him not to buy, the last shopping trip they’d ever taken together. Lex, on the other hand, looked immaculate as always, and was that shirt really _plum_?

“Uh, hi,” he stammered. _Smooth, Kent_.

“Lex Luthor, this is Clark Kent, my partner,” Lois put in helpfully. “Don’t mind him, he’s easily dazzled.”

“Oh, we’ve met,” Lex drawled, voice flowing like honey. “We know each other _quite_ well.”

“Right.” If Lois was a little confused at his tone she recovered fast. “Smallville, I forgot. I’ll just be a sec. You two catch up, and then we can go.”

Lex barely waited for her to leave before flashing Clark a chilling smile, all teeth and no humour. “Long time no see, Clark,” he said. “You’re looking well.”

“Whatever. So you’re finally deigning to speak to the press?”

“Press, Clark? I’m on a date with a beautiful woman, who happened to forget something at work.”

“Oh, right. She wants the _story_.”

“Story, Clark? There is no story. As I’m sure you just heard me explaining, I felt like coming home, so I did.”

“And it’s coincidence you arrived in time to block a hostile takeover bid for Luthorcorp, and counter with one of your own?”

“There are no coincidences in life, Clark. And you don’t work the finance section.”

“You own half the city now! Metro _is_ my section.”

Lex laughed. “Of course. So why didn’t _you_ call? Peggy still has a soft spot for you; you could have sweet talked her into putting you through.”

“That’s not how I work, Lex.”

“No, I guess not. But you never used to be so shy about asking for a favour.”

“Don’t do this, Lex.”

“Do what? Come back to _my_ hometown, and _my_ life? You wanted space, I gave it to you. Time’s up.”

A million thoughts stampeded through Clark’s mind. _*I* wanted space? If I’d called you would have spoken to me? Did you really not see me outside? Both times?_ Naturally, the most important was the one spoken. “You’re really on a date?”

One elegant eyebrow rose. “Is it so hard to believe? Lois is a very attractive woman. You of all people should know I’ve always been partial to leggy brunettes.”

“And that you always were a vicious bastard.”

Lex leaned forward, right into Clark’s personal space. Stripped of flirtatious intent it was little short of menacing. “No one could call you sentimental either, Clark. Was that for my benefit?” He gestured angrily at the trashcan at their feet.

Oh, God. “It’s a coincidence, Lex. I was cleaning up.” _And there are no coincidences in life_... 

“Sure.” For a fraction of a second Lex looked genuinely hurt. “And you didn’t know I was here from the moment I hit the foyer? I _never_ surprised you coming home. Not once.”

“I can’t tune into _everything_ all day, I’d go crazy. I have to focus.”

“And you don’t focus on me anymore?” Lex retreated, shields flicking back up. “Clark, you _wound_ me.”

“I’m not _doing_ this with you again!”

“Doing what, Kent?” The chief dumped a box of collector’s mugs on the out pile, and snatched Elvis back from the jaws of doom. “Oh! Mr Luthor. I’m Perry White.” Perry wiped his dusty hand on his pants leg before extending it. “Welcome to the _Daily Planet_.”

“It’s a pleasure. And please, call me Lex.” Right before Clark’s eyes Lex transformed, tight muscles relaxing, eyes softening. Charm mode overdrive. “Lois has told me so much about you. We’re only in for a moment, but I’d very much like to meet with you, perhaps next week?”

Cut out of the conversation by Lex’s subtly turned shoulder, Clark grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Perry’d been right as usual. He _should_ have gone home for the weekend. A slice or ten of Martha’s pie and a good side dish of Jonathan’s anti-Luthor invective was exactly what he needed.

He was halfway to Smallville when he realised he still hadn’t managed to shut down his computer. Lex and Lois would be gone by now, on their “date” – the inverted commas appeared on their own, without his summoning them – but if Jimmy ever got a break he was bound to check his email on Clark’s machine. The chief and his favourite intern gossiped worse than a couple of Smallville housewives, and Clark’s open files, coupled with tonight’s performance and Perry’s veiled hints, would fuel the fires for weeks. There was nothing for it but to go back and turn the damn thing off. If the fates smiled – wasn’t it about time, statistically speaking? – he might even get in and out without being seen.

* * *

It had been a forlorn hope, and he really should have known it. All the lights in the bullpen were on when he emerged from the stairwell, and Jimmy was already sitting at his desk, typing away furiously. _Busted_. Oh, well. Time to put a brave face on adversity, something he had infinite practice with. “Jimmy, I...”

A strong arm grabbed his shoulder, spinning him round and shoving a gun in his face. Instinct made him roll with it, hand coming up to bat the gun aside even as he flung the man across the room to sprawl against the photocopier. Spinning, he braced himself for the next attack. It didn’t come. Instead he heard applause, and mocking laughter. 

“Nice moves, Jackie Chan. Now sit down, before your friends get it.”

Clark’s jaw dropped in horror as he made out Lex, Lois and Perry, all sitting on the floor with their hands on their heads, a couple of men in black overalls behind them, automatic weapons at the ready. Lex had evidently been causing trouble because one eye was already blackening, and the gun was very close to his temple. It didn’t exactly leave a lot of leeway for mistakes. Clark sighed and raised his hands.

“Good choice,” the leader commented, gesturing for him to sit likewise. He turned to the third man, staggering to his feet in the corner. “Cuff the lovebirds together, and if either of them moves, shoot the other one.”

Lois looked on in incredulity as the man proceeded to cuff Lex’s left hand to Clark’s right. Perry smiled knowingly, despite the seriousness of the situation, and Jimmy looked up from his purloined keyboard with a grin. Clark braced himself for the storm.

It wasn’t long in coming. “I think there’s been some mistake,” Lex sneered. “I barely know this man. And I refuse to be a hostage for his good behaviour.”

“Really?” The leader of the group looked amused. “Then if you make it out of here, I seriously suggest you look into a restraining order. This guy has more pictures of you on his hard drive than you have millions.”

 _Oh, *God*_. Clark leaned forward to hide his burning face in his hands. This was officially the worst day of his life. There was nothing more that could possibly go wrong.

Lex angrily pulled his own arm back. “I don’t know about that,” he grated through clenched teeth, “but I have a _lot_ of money. Name a figure. Or tell me what it is you’re after. I’m sure we can reach some mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Lex, for God’s sake, be quiet,” Clark hissed. “These people are serious.”

“ _I_ am serious. I employ eleven thousand people _direct_ , I meet with the toughest unions in the world, I think I can handle this.”

Clark looked at him in appalled amazement. “You’re more arrogant than you ever were.”

“And you’re more naive,” Lex spat. “And evidently still a stalker.”

The leader laughed. “Yeah. You two don’t know each other. At _all_. Now shut up, both of you. And you.” He turned to Jimmy. “You said you were good with computers. Hurry up with that floor plan.”

“It’s printing now, sir.”

“Good. Then get over here.”

* * *

The most painful night in history dragged glacially on as the leader and his second in command pored over their downloaded charts, and tapped experimentally on walls and floors like demented interior designers. The other two stood constant guard over the prisoners, one of them always well within range. Only the complex mathematical problem of how to divert their attention, _and_ that of Lois, Perry and Jimmy, long enough to make a break kept Clark from cracking under the strain. Lex’s comments about prior hostage situations he’d been in, and how someone always miraculously saved the day, were growing more barbed, and more personal, by the moment.

“Man, I wish Batman lived in Metropolis,” Jimmy said at last.

“Yeah?” Clark asked, more to distract himself from his growing headache than anything else.

“Yeah. He’d scale the walls and kick some ass.”

“Do you think so?” Lex looked intrigued. “Say he was here right now. Say I was Batman.”

“You?” Clark couldn’t help himself, though he knew he’d live to regret it. But then, what else was new?

“It’d be the perfect secret identity. Billionaire by day, bat by night. Who do you think pays for his gadgets? And the car?”

“I don’t really see you as the hero type, Lex.” And that wasn’t what he’d meant, not remotely, but as with so many things it was too late, and the words were out there.

The light of geek fervour died. “Of course not. And if I _was_ Batman, who’s to say I wouldn’t just keep sitting here, pretending to be helpless, rather than reveal myself in front of my friends?”

“Lex...”

“People I should _know_ I can trust!” Lex yelled, composure vanishing. “I’m sick of this shit! This sort of thing never happens to me anywhere else, only here. And only when you’re around!”

And in a blur of motion, all hell broke loose. Lois took out the goon nearest her with an elbow to the groin, even as Lex flung himself up and back, away from Clark and toward the second guard. The die being cast, Clark leaped at the other two, cuff snapping open and springing free. It was the work of seconds to disarm them both, and for a heartbeat he pondered the absurdity of waiting three excruciating hours for a three minute resolution. Then time returned to its proper speed, and he registered the sound of a gun going off and a woman crying out.

Spinning, he backhanded the last of the team into the wall even as Lex hit the ground. Lois and Perry both leaned over him, but Clark shoved them aside. “Call an ambulance,” he screamed, rolling Lex onto his back. The bullet had nicked Lex’s neck, and blood was gushing out, a steady flow which pulsed in time with his rapidly slowing heart. Clark had never seen so much, even in Smallville. 

His hand settled tightly over the wound, grotesque parody of all the times he’d held Lex close, and he had to fight the urge to shout, “ _It’s your own damn fault, what the hell were you thinking?_ ” It was Lois’ fault too, she’d started the whole fiasco. Why did these fragile, breakable people always think they could be heroes? _Someone had to be_ , that little voice whispered. _They couldn’t wait for you forever_. 

Jimmy dived for the phone, frantically dialling 911, and Perry grabbed a pile of Graceland t-shirts off the out pile, folding them up and passing them over. “Press hard, son,” he said gruffly. “Press as hard as you can. If you don’t stop that bleeding he’s a goner.”

“I know that!” Clark shouted. His hands were slick with Lex’s blood, and still the t-shirts kept turning red and being cast aside. Lois pulled off her jacket and handed it over without a word, looking around wildly for anything else that would do.

Lex’s eyelids flickered and his lips moved, red froth bubbling up on them.

“Don’t speak. Don’t.” Clark leaned over him, fingers digging in desperately. Another minute or two, and Lex’s body would start to heal itself. He just had to hang on long enough.

Lex smiled, and closed his eyes. And without thinking, without checking to see who was looking, Clark did what he knew he had to. A quick burst of his heat vision, tightly controlled, and the wound sealed. It wasn’t pretty, but it would hold, at least until the paramedics arrived.

* * *

Clark stood aside unwillingly, as the paramedics worked on Lex. They looked a little weirded out as they applied proper bandages, but he just glared at them brazenly and neither said anything. Perry seemed awestruck as well now that the adrenaline of the moment was wearing off, looking round the wrecked room in amazement. Finally he broke the silence. “Now don’t think I’m not grateful, son, but how in the Sam Hill did you do all that?” 

Clark cast around for a plausible answer. A liar all his life and he was still no good at it.

Lex coughed suddenly, and started to laugh from the stretcher he was being strapped into. “SEAL training,” he said authoritatively. “Smallville had a surprisingly high crime rate, and I sponsored an intensive self defence course for all my employees and their families.”

“Is that so, son?”

“I think I need a refresher course.” Lex laughed again, and started another fit of coughing.

“Stop it,” Clark said sternly, shoving the bemused paramedic out of the way, and looming over Lex. He smiled uncertainly, and Lex smiled back, the first genuine smile of the day. “You’re okay?”

“I will be. I’m pretty tired.”

“Can I come see you?”

Lex’s smile faltered. “Nothing’s changed, Clark.”

“I know.” Clark reached out to gently touch Lex’s bruised cheek. “But maybe some things can. Either way, there are things I’d like to tell you.”

Lex looked uncertain, but he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

* * *

The police finished taking Clark’s statement at last, and he crossed the bullpen to where Lois was waiting. “Any idea what they were looking for?” she asked.

He shook his head. “None.”

“Me either. So. Lovebirds, huh?”

He flushed scarlet. “Not really.”

Lois laughed. “It’s okay. You were right. I was after the story.” She slapped Clark on the shoulder. “I hope things work out.” She turned and headed for the elevator, calling back, “I still call first dibs on the _real_ story of why he came back though.”

“Kent!” The chief’s bellow cut through the restored calm. "Get in here.”

Clark dragged himself into Perry’s office, where Elvis had been restored to his rightful position and Jimmy was returning various rescued treasures to their homes, sighing all the while.

“Next time I tell you to take the weekend off, you take the damn weekend off, you hear me?”

“Yes sir. How about next weekend?”

“Don’t push it, son.”

“Okay. Why are you putting everything back? What happened to the slippery slope?”

Perry laughed, slapping his thigh. “I’m feeling a surge of nostalgia for some reason. Some things are worth keeping.”

“Yeah. Some things.”

Clark walked out of the office and back to his desk. It took a couple of minutes to delete all his non-work files, and empty the cache. He put on his scarf, buttoned up his coat, and reached into the trash to pull out the broken picture frame.

It was empty.


End file.
